Alright, all the candles have been extinguished on the fourth birthday cake. Thanks for your well-wishes. April seemed like a relatively light month, but I suspect that’s because a lot of people wanted to give the Pope his due. Next month might be a doozy. That said, let’s get to it.
When the Pope dies, the Pope bats leadoff. Pope Francis has taken his last Popemobile ride at 88. And give him some credit for not upstaging the Big Guy by departing on Easter Sunday. I am not buying into the idea that the meeting with J.D. Vance did him in, even if it might kill me. Anyway, he was a pretty amazing guy, the Pope. He was the first Pope from South America, quipping when he got the promotion that his fellow Cardinals, “have gone almost to the ends of the Earth to get him.” He got the gig when Pope Benedict decided to retire which is not exactly what Popes were known for doing. In fact, the last time a Pope decided to take the gold watch and head off to enjoy his AARP benefits was back in 1415 when Pope Gregory XII hung up his Papel slippers. Pope Benedict was pretty conservative and must have chafed when the rather liberal leaning Jesuit, Cardinal, Bergoglio, became Pope Francis. He has always had a soft spot for the poor and downtrodden in our world and has taken his vows of poverty for real. While a Cardinal, he railed against the ostentation, luxury, hypocrisy, and bureaucracy of the Vatican. Then, all of a sudden, he became the boss. Rather than living in the opulent Papel apartment, he lived in a modest guest house and was driven around not in a fancy limo but a Ford Focus. Really? A Ford Focus? Kind of like the 2020 version of a K-Car. He deserved better.
As a kid he thought about becoming a doctor, and was quite the tango dancer, even acting as a bouncer at a tango club. But he was smitten with the church and ultimately became a priest. He rose in the Church, but his management style was somewhat autocratic, and he was banished to Germany and Argentina where he engaged in some self-reflection which was humbling for a Jesuit with aspirations. He was named the Bishop of Buenos Aires (I might have stopped there) and then Archbishop, where he spearheaded efforts on helping the poor and disadvantaged, prisoners, and AIDS victims, something that would remain a hallmark of his career. Ultimately, he was named a Cardinal and after the death of Pope John Paul II (who followed John Paul I, who only lasted 33 days as Pope before succumbing to what conspiracy theorists would say was corruption at the Vatican Bank), he was runner up for the big job to Pope Benedict. Given his age and getting the consolation trophy, he thought he had gone as far as he could, and picked a place to live out his life in prayer. Then, like the wild-card team winning it all, after Benedict’s retirement, and a deadlock for a bunch of votes between the conservatives and liberals, on the fifth round of voting, the smoke came out white and Pope Francis was given the Papel Mitre.
True to who he was, he remained an advocate for the disadvantaged. He travelled the world to some of the poorer countries, advocated for those unable to advocate for themselves, and spoke bluntly to world leaders about how their policies affected those who needed assistance the most, especially refugees. As an example, in speaking of a particular world leader he said: “A person who thinks about building walls, wherever they may be, and not bridges, is not Christian.” He later referred to Trump’s mass deportation as a “disgrace.” Pope Francis tried to move the Church to a more liberal theology. When informed about a priest being gay, he responded: “who am I to judge?” He was more accepting of the LGBT community than any of his predecessors, who would have damned them all to the eternal fires. Liberals, though, found him too slow to effect change. He loosened the restraints on those who believed in a woman’s right to choose even though he remained a staunch right-to-lifer. He promoted more liberal Cardinals and demoted some arch conservatives, which may affect the vote on his successor. He appointed 108 of the 135 Cardinals who will vote on his successor. There is a lot more to say but better and far more astute writers everywhere are telling the story. The true test of his legacy will be decided when the successor to Pope Francis is elected. The Church, like politics around the world, is fractured. It remains to be seen where it will go. That said, for the last dozen years, like Allstate, the Church was in good hands.
We move from the Pope to Dennis the Menace, because Jay North, who played the role of Dennis, the bete noire to his old, cranky, neighbor, George Wilson, died at 77. The show was adapted from a comic strip of the same name by Hank Ketcham. Dennis was a menace in his time, which means he wasn’t toting around an AK-15 and shooting up schools, as kids might do today, but instead, he did things like break the occasional window. Dennis, who generally wore overalls, was well intentioned, but things he would do would constantly antagonize his next-door neighbor, Mr. Wilson, who would overreact and Dennis would always be left wondering what it was he did that was so bad. As a kid watching it, the lesson was, it was okay to screw up occasionally. The world wouldn’t end because of it. Kids today should get a dose of that once in a while. Their world of scheduled play dates, rules and regulations, leaves everyone wrapped a bit too tight, as Mr. Wilson was. Anyway, Jay North played Dennis for four years, from 1959 to 1963. While Dennis’ childhood seemed idyllic, Mr. North’s, spent playing Dennis, was not. Mr. North, who was the son of a single parent, was supervised on the set by an aunt and uncle because his mom was working. According to Mr. North, they were physically and emotionally abusive to him. In an interview with the Los Angeles Daily News, he told the interviewer that if it took more than two takes to get a scene right, he would be threatened and then whacked. Not in the mafia sense of the word (or even in the Pope John Paul I sense), mind you, but in the hit upside the head sense. Mr. North said it was the suicide of Rusty Hamer, the child star of “The Danny Thomas Show,” that set him on the course of fixing his own life. After playing the role of Dennis, he appeared in shows like “The Man from U.N.C.L.E.,” and “My Three Sons” (a favorite of mine), and even the lead role in the movie “Maya,” which I had never heard of. Even though, as a kid, he begged his mom to get him onto the television show ,“The Engineer Bill Show,” he eventually soured on the life of a star. He enlisted in the Navy and worked as an officer in the Florida Department of Corrections. Not sure how he would have treated his younger television show character had he encountered him in the new gig.
While Blondie will always be synonymous with Debbie Harry, and to a slightly lesser extent Chris Stein, it was the band’s driving music, anchored by the drummer Clem Burke, who died this month at 70, that defined its sound. Whether the spot-on backbeat to “Heart of Glass,” the reggae beat of “The Tide is High,” or the relentless drive behind “Call Me,” it was Burke providing the beat. Burke, the son of a professional drummer, was born in Bayonne, New Jersey. He was first taught by his dad and then played in the St. Andrew’s Bridgemen Drum & Bugle Corps in Bayonne. You get to hone your chops as a snare drummer in a Drum & Bugle Corps. He played around in bands in New Jersey and New Yok and answered an ad in the Village Voice that had been placed by Stein and Harry looking for a drummer. Don’t laugh, Springsteen found Max Weinberg when he, too, placed an ad in the Voice. Burke clicked with Harry and Stein and the band gelled, playing in clubs like Max’s Kansas City and CBGB. Burke played on all of Blondie’s 11 albums. Blondie went on hiatus after six studio albums and Burke worked with a number of acts including David Bowie, Pete Townshend, the Eurythmics, and even Bob Dylan. For a short time, he drummed for the Ramones, taking the name Elvis Ramone. He played on the Joan Jett “Bad Reputation” album and drummed for the Romantics. When Blondie reformed, he was back at it with the group. He had an incredible career and helped form the backbeat of some great tunes.
I have said this a number of times before, record producers are more like movie directors. They shape the band’s music in the studio. One of the greats, Roy Thomas Baker, died at 77. He started his career with Decca Records when he was 14. He worked with Keith Richards and Mick Jagger, as well as Frank Zappa. With bands, he produced, The Who, The Stones, Nazareth, Santana, The Mothers of Invention, The Cars, Motley Crue, Foreigner, Journey, and T. Rex, to name a few. He produced Queen’s first four albums which included their timeless hit “Bohemian Rhapsody.” He was also the producer of T. Rex’ “Bang a Gong (Get It On),” and Free’s “All Right Now.” I could go on. Doesn’t appear as though he worked with EVH, however. Rick Ocasek of the Cars said that Baker “was an electronics whiz. A sound guy with a classical background for mic-ing the room’s sound. He got harmony. And he took things in stride. A very upbeat, elegant Man. Spontaneous too.” Roger Taylor of Queen, balancing that, said of him: “I think he bought a certain amount of discipline and a lot of cynicism and a passion for fattening desserts. He liked his food, Roy.” Gotta love a guy like that.
Session players often keep a low profile but are responsible for some of the great music we hear. This month we lost two great session players, David Briggs, a keyboard player who helped create the Muscle Shoals, R& B sound and also did work in Nashville, died at 82; and Mac Gayden, who most notably played on Dylan’s Blonde on Blonde album that was largely recorded in Nashville, died at 83. Briggs, in addition to his work in Muscle Shoals, was in Elvis Presley’s TCB band for years. He was on the Sammi Smith hit, “Help me Make it through the Night,” and Dollie Parton’s “Coat of Many Colors.” It is Gaydon’s slide guitar through a Wah-wha pedal that you hear on Steve Miller’s, “The Joker” album. Along with Buzz Cason, he co-wrote “Everlasting Love, “covered by any number of artists such as Gloria Estefan and U-2. Briggs and Gayden intersected as members of the session players’ supergroup Area Code 615. While you may not have heard of them, you must assuredly have heard them.
There was a time when the Knicks were great. I mean really great. Championship great. I know it’s hard to fathom, and I believe dinosaurs roamed the streets of New York when it happened, but believe me, it happened. That is not to demean today’s Knicks, because I am a big fan of Jalen Brunson, but they have their hands full with Detroit at the moment (although they should have handily beaten them in game 5 but failed as Brunson stood by the scorer’s table for some two minutes waiting to get into the game) so Championship is really not in the cards this year. But there was a time. Dick Barnett, who helped propel the Knicks to two Championships, in 1970 and 1973, and went on to get his doctorate in education and teach at St. John’s, sunk his last fall-back jumper this month at 88. Barnett’s signature shot was his fall away jumper which was, to say the least, unorthodox, and nearly impossible to defend against. It is not really something you can teach and he developed it, without really thinking, as a kid shooting in playgrounds. But it worked, and he kept with it. It propelled him through college at Tennessee Agricultural and Industrial University, now mercifully shortened to Tennessee State, where he set the scoring record of 3,309 points. The team was the first from a historically Black college to win a championship in an integrated title match, when they won the NAIA national championship. Heck, they won it three times and Barnett was the MVP in 58 and 59. He left college before graduating, but went back to finish and then get a master’s and a doctorate from Fordham in education. Professionally, he was drafted by the Syracuse Nationals (now the hated 76ers); left to play in the ABA for the Cleveland Pipers for a year, a team owned by George Steinbrenner; then went to the Lakers and was traded to the Knicks where he played nine years. He got his revenge on the Lakers when the Knicks won the 1970 championship against them in seven games. Three years later they would beat the Lakers again, this time in five. Playing with the likes of Willis Reed, Dave DeBusschere, Bill Bradley (that’s senator Bradley to me), Walt “Clyde Frazier, and a great supporting cast, they were truly champions. Who can forget Reed hobbling onto the court in game 7 to go up against Wilt Chamberlain, with Frazier pounding down 37 points. Oh the glory days. Seventy-three was Barnett’s last year and he played more of a supporting role, but still brought home the hardware. Barnett, although no Clyde, was a sharp dresser with a cutting sense of humor. That said, he wrote poetry and taught sports management at St. John’s. Unlike today’s NIL pampered players, Barnett, growing up in Gary Indiana, would take a shovel with him to the playground to clear the snow off the court so he could practice his shooting. It was his shot that took him to the top of the game and the Basketball Hall of Fame. It’s all about the effort baby.
I may be the only one who has never seen his work, but I am informed that Val Kilmer, who died this month at 65, possessed great acting chops and had killer looks, which both help in creating a star; and Mr. Kilmer was undeniably that. Anybody who played both Batman and Jim Morrison (especially Morrison) would get my vote for greatness. He also played opposite Tom Cruise in Top Gun. Robert Downey Jr. referred to him as “chronically eccentric,” and when you consider the source, you realize he must be really off center. Thus, Kilmer wasn’t a personal charmer, but neither are lots of people, myself included. However, his body of work, which is quite extensive and often brilliant, is what should define him. He grew up in L.A. where he had Roy Rogers and Dale Evans as neighbors. Not sure Trigger was in residence, but that is surely something to boast. Wonder if they sat around the campfire singing “Happy Trails.” He was one of the youngest applicants to be admitted to the Julliard School. He had a ranch outside of Santa Fe and spent a lot of time there. He wasn’t caught up in the Hollywood hoopla and understood there were more important things in life – like his kids. He thought about running for the governorship of New Mexico but ultimately chose his privacy. In contemplating the end of life, he once said that “death is just a transition to another state of consciousness.” Hope he is enjoying it there.
I’ll mention in passing that the guy who took the ski bot from the lace up leather ankle breakers that existed, to the more modern day plastic ski boot that cause your knees to give way rather than your ankles, Sven Coomer, died at 84. Just the name Sven Coomer is probably good enough to land him here, but in addition to that handle, he came up with a great design that, while not truly “comfortable,” is better than what existed and works pretty well. Don’t think he got royalties, but he apparently did pretty well for himself. And he’s named Sven. How cool.
This is one of those where if I don’t write it, people will think I missed it. Actually, my relative lack of interest is because he didn’t really touch my life. I watched a few game shows in my time. “Hollywood Squares,” “Let’s Make a Deal,” occasionally “The Price is Right” and “Wheel of Fortune,” because something was on before it and the television stayed on, and like everyone else in the world, “Jeopardy.” However, I never watched or even saw one of the 20 game shows that Wink Martindale, who died this month at 91, was involved with. Sure I knew the name, it’s unforgettable, but I didn’t know the man. More a knock on me than him, but my world never collided with his. Before he was a game show host, he was a disk jockey and a singer. He spun records at WHBQ in Memphis and put out a spoken words record, “Deck of Cards,” which sold over a million copies. After that it was television, first on a children’s show, then on a teenage dance party show. His effervescent personality led him to the game show circuit with his first being “What’s this Song.” That ultimately led to such hit gameshows as “Gambit,” “Tic-Tac-Dough,” and “High Rollers.” He was one of the first inductees into the American Game Show TV Hall of Fame in Las Vegas. Can’t believe such a thing exists, but then again, it’s in Vegas. I hope when he got to the Pearly Gates, he picked what was behind door number 2.
Wayne Hasenbalg died last month. I knew him. He was a kind and gentle guy.
May is here and it is simply one of the best months of the year. Please enjoy it.
❤️
Good stuff Charlie!